But it ain't home
by XxFleurdelySxX
Summary: AU. In the middle of the 18th century, Remy LeBeau, an Acadian farmer, is the helpless witness of the destruction of what he held dear.(Lots of angst and emotional wreck... A little love, family, and maybe some Rogue... Read to know!)
1. Words

***clears her throat and looks at the reviewers with shame* I did it again. I started another story. I resisted, I swear! I wanted to finish "Sixteen Years" and "Laissez les bons temps rouler" before I posted this one up but… *tear* I've been writing this since the beginning of July. The plot got me again! He kept running around in my head, screaming ideas in my ear so I flinched all the time at my job, making the other employees eyeing me warily. I probably looked crazy anyways, with my eye twitching each time the sinister voice of the plot spoke in my head, bringing images that wont dissapear in my mind. Now for that new story… It isn't a Sinister-like story, like "Through Time" and "Sixteen Years", nor a fluffy (or attempted fluffy *sighs angrily*, turned out to be a plot in the damn story!) thing like "Laissez les bons temps rouler!". Darn, it isn't like anything I've posted before, and I'm a little anxious. I actually did some research on the subject so I could write something chronogicaly correct (I study to be a French and History teacher).**

**Have you ever wondered why Cajuns talked French? Where do they come from? Maybe you know they are descendants of the Acadians (notice the ressemblance in the pronounciation), common name given to the francophones who live in ****Nova Scotia**** and ****New Brunswick**** in ****Canada****. This is the story of an Acadian (call him Cajun if you prefer) who lived through the hell of deportation and slavery in the English colonies. But I won't go further in that in the description of the story, I'll let Remy tell his own story. The beginning of this first chapter may look… quick, but it's only historical reference, so you can understand what's going on. This is a story about a character, history only being background to the story.**

**I feel the need to lighten the fact that I'm not writing this out of political interest. I am a French Canadian, and I am more than interested in French history and in the martyrs some people lived through the story of ****North America****. But this started with me searching for information on Cajuns in my history books, and ending with a story telling the events in a novel-like style.**

**You guessed this is an A/U. No mutants, no powers. Some characters you may recognize, though. Some fluff (yes, yes, Rogue might pop up somewhere in the middle of the story), but not a lot. A lot of drama, angst, and tears (I hope) for my dear reviewers. I'm warning you : I don't intend on making things easy for dear Remy (as I ever DID in any of my stories. He's not going to die, though. Not him.). Give me time for this one, though. It's pretty hard work, and I need to read tons of books and web sites in order to get the information right. And even though I kinda like my other stories, this one is big, and I consider it serious stuff.**

**_But it ain't home_**

_Lives ruined_

My father was barely 7 the day the messenger came, running through the fields near Baie Ste-Marie*, in the French colony of Acadia, yelling his lungs out.

"_Les Français ont perdu! Et ils laissent des possessions d'Amérique aux Anglais_!" The French have lost the war! And they're leaving some American possessions (colonies) to the English!

In 1713, the war for Spanish succession was ended with the defeat of the French, who had wanted the grandson of Louis XIV on the trone of Spain. The Treaty of Utrecht had been harsh on the French, forcing them to give away some American territory to the English in order to keep what they had in Europe. They kept the islands of St-Jean (St-John) and Royale, but had to give away the Hudson bay, Newfoundland and…

"_Et l'Acadie_" ended the messenger. And Acadia. My father told me once he never felt his own father go so stiff, like a piece of wood. Silence had fell over the small room where the farmers had joined to listen to the messenger's tale. My grandfather's callused hand had squeezed my father's shoulder, and he had known from that moment that things weren't going to be easy.

The Acadians were French above all. But now, without choice, and without so much of a fight from France to keep them under her wing, they were English property.

But the Acadians weren't going to make it easy for their new owners. They refused to take the oath to England they had to take in order to be considered an English citizen, and continued owing allegeance to France, and practising the catholic rite. As the years went by, the English began to consider the Acadian people as a threath to their plans to conquer all French and Spanish territory in America.

My grandfather died, and my father, as the only living child remaining, took over the family farm, situated in Western Acadia, near Baie Ste-Marie. I remember being able to see the never ending horizon of the sea on very beautiful days, and we were able to tell the weather many days forward. It was a fair sized farm, I have to say, and it was known up to Port Royal and Grand-Pré that the LeBeaus were, if not a wealthy family, at least living quite well, considering what an Acadian farmer could hope in these times. My father Jean-Luc married young with a neighbor's daughter, Mariette Dubois, and they had their first son in 1725, Henri.

I was born in the beginning of April of 1729, and was the fifth in a family of eight children. My father was lucky to have five sons out of eight, as sons were preferable to daughters, and probably was very proud of all of us, although he never spoke a word about it. My younger brother, Maximien, became a priest, and it might have been the best decision in his life. Me, along with my three older brothers, Henri, François and Jules, worked from dawn to dusk with Father to make the farm work, and my sisters, Marguerite, Madeleine and Jacqueline, helped my mother until the day they married and went away.

I was the last to marry, though I was still young to do so.

Belle Boudreaux had to be the most beautiful woman in all Western Acadia, and although I never really believed in love at first sight, there was something between us from the day I saw her. She had came to the LeBeau farm along with her mother and sisters to help Mother with some apple pie baking, and my brothers and I had chosen that moment of the day to head back to the house in search of food. She was there, bright blonde hair pulled back to the back of her head, flour all over her arms and apron, laughing with the other women, and shinning blue eyes settling on me as we came in the kitchen, dirty with cow droppings and strays of hay in our hair. Even today, I remember the way her eyes twinkled when she laughed along with the other women at our sight (with the slight exception of Mother, who let out a yelp of alarm before kicking us out of her clean kitchen with a broomstick, with strict orders of getting cleaned up before hazarding a foot back in). I saw her often at the farm after that, and we quickly fell in love. 

We married on New Years day, dawn of the year of 1749. You have no need to count: I was nineteen, going on twenty, and she was seventeen. And by the end of the year, at Christmas, Belle held in her arms our first bundle of joy, Alexandre. Beautiful Éloïse came two years later, in 1751, and Sylvain and Julien came respectively in 1752 and 1754. At age 25, I was father of four, and as proud as humanely possible.

By that time, the English had built many fortifications on the territory of Acadia, renamed by the English as Nova Scotia, and had a big fort, Fort Lawrence, built a few miles away from Fort Beauséjour and Fort Gaspareau in New-Brunswick, a French possession. From the moment that fort was built, in 1750, we Acadians smelled that something bad was going to happen. And we knew from the start that we weren't going to be on the Englishmen's side. We had been fighting for nearly forty years for our French roots, we certainly weren't going to fight our own brothers. In the spring of 1755, what had to happen, happened, and the English attacked Fort Beauséjour. Many Acadians, my brother François among them, went there to fight along the French's side, but very few came back. The English won and took prisonners, and François never came back home. New-Brunswick now belonged to the English, and the Acadians were now known as a real threath that had to be eliminated.

We were worried, but we never would have guessed the English would have gone so far. We received a letter at the farm during the summer, and it was my mother, the only one who could read, who read it to us out loud. Every man older than sixteen in every house of Western Acadia was to go to Grand-Pré, in order to listen to lieutenant-colonel Winslow's declaration of His Majesty's orders, on september 3, 1755.

********************************************************************

The day we left, I felt sick. Something was going to go all wrong. An unknown force made me turn back just before I hopped on the carriage. All my brothers, as well as my father and brothers-in-law, were already in the carriage, and our wives and kids were standing in front of the big family house. I spotted my own little family when Belle stepped forward, baby Julien in her arms, and little Sylvain clutching her skirt. He looked scared, and I wondered for a moment if young children could sense it when something went wrong. Maybe they could, I would never know. I walked away from the carriage, and hugged Belle with all my might.

"Don't go, Remy. Something's not right with this big reunion." She looked up at me, her blue eyes filled with fear. "The English'll trick you, I know it."

"Of course not." My voice sounded wrong, and I'm not sure I even believed in what I said. "They tried to trick us many times, Belle. We're not going to let them hurt us again." She hid her face in my shirt, a sob shaking her shoulders.

"I couldn't bear it if they took you away, Remy…"

"Shhh, Belle…" I took her by the shoulders, gently pushing her away, and smiled down at her. "They're not going to take me away. I'll be back soon." I smiled at the squirming baby in her arms, and drop a light kiss on his forehead. I kneeled in front of Sylvain, and he opened his arms to hug my neck.

"Be back soon, _papa_?"

"Of course I will." I felt another pair of arms trying to get around my back, and looked up to see Éloïse smiling at me, her big blue eyes, so much like her mother's, sparkling with intelligence.

"You'll be back before Julien's birthday, _oui? He's gonna be one year old!" I smiled and ruffled her hair, ruining the ponytail, and ignored Belle's glare as she saw the result in her daughter's hair. I turned to Alexandre, standing behind Belle, and trying to look as tall as possible, which wasn't much, considering he was only six years old. I got up, and looked down at him. He rose chocolate brown eyes to meet my own, face written all over with hope._

"You take good care of _maman, right?" He nodded energicaly, and took a protective hold of his mother's hand. Belle looked down at him with a tender smile, then looked up at me. I reached up, brushing her cheek with my hand. She closed her eyes, tears shining at the corner of her eyelids. "I swear I'll be back soon, __ma Belle. You just don't worry." She didn't open her eyes as I bent down and lightly kissed her. And once on the carriage, as the horses lead us away, when I looked back at the big house, Alexandre was still holding her hand, and she still had her eyes closed._

Three days later, we were hundreds, packed in the small church of St-Charles-des-Mines, in Grand-Pré. John Winslow was standing at the altar, a yellowish piece of paper in one hand, and looked nervously at the three hundred French talking farmers sitting in front of him. Red-coated English soldiers were standing next to him, and he obviously was waiting for everyone to shut up. They finaly did, and he started to speak, and everyone gave out a small sigh of relief. For our sakes, he was talking in a thickly accented French.

"Sirs. I have received from his Excellence the governor Lawrence, the King's instructions. It is by his orders that you are all here gathered to hear his Majesty's final resolutions concerning the French inhabitants of the province of Nova Scotia, who, for half a century, have received more indulgence than any other English subject of His Majesty's Dominion. What use you have made of these indulgences, only you know. The duty I have now, though necessary, is against my nature and attitude, as it must be for you, who are of the same nature." I narrowed my eyes at him. Whatever was he saying, he was using understatements nobody was understanding. He took in a deep breath, slightly flushed, and continued. "But I'm not to critic orders, but to follow them. So I am here, telling you the orders and instructions of His Majesty, which are that all…" he paused, his face entirely red. As much as we hated that man, he really looked uncomfortable with the job he had to do, and apprehension filled my chest. What was so bad that even an English lieutenant thought was bad? Winslow took in a deep quivering breath, and resumed, talking quickly. "All your earth possessions, your houses, cows, herd and flocks of all kind are confiscated to the crown's profit, along with all other belongings, with the exception of your money and furniture, and that yourselves have to be transported out of this province. His Majesty's orders are that all inhabitants of this district are to be deported, with the great generosity of his Majesty, you can bring as much personnal belongings as possible without cluttering up the ships on which you will be deported. I will attempt the impossible to assure the protection of your belongings, and to make sure you are not brutalized, and that families are transported on the same ships. I am assured that aside the fact that you might feel uncomfortable with the idea of leaving, in the part of the world where you'll be, you'll stay a loyal subject of his Majesty, and will stay peaceful and happy people. It is my duty to tell you that his Majesty's pleasure is to keep you under security from the soldiers I have the honnor of leading."** With these final words, he nodded, and walked behind a wall. 

There was not a sound in the church as the soldiers eyed us warily. I saw Henri bent down and drop his head in his hands, and many men stared in the space in front of them. I had trouble breathing myself, as I replayed the whole speech in my head.

Houses, herds, confiscated.

Deported?

Then we noticed as the soldiers blocked the door and armed their guns, ready to use force against men that didn't want to fight. 

It seemed they were keeping us captive until the boats arrived…

We were trapped, tricked by the English.

_* Baie Ste-Marie, __Acadia__, is known today under the name of Church Point, __Nova Scotia__, (notice the switch from French to English, like many other Acadian cities) and is named so because of the Ste-Marie's church, the tallest wooden church in __North America__. There probably is a link to make with the Church Point located in __Louisiana__, US, known as a Cajun city. Ain't I good? *winks* Yes I am! By the way, I discovered, while straining my eyes looking at maps on the net, that Lebeau is actualy a city in __Louisiana__? Oh, how original, Marvel realy looked far… *tear* Thankfully, it is also a real French name, so honor is safe._

_** This is my personnal traduction of the real declaration, which was in French. Here is the original version, for those interested. "__Messieurs, J'ai reçu de Son Excellence le gouverneur Lawrence, les instructions du roi. C'est par ses ordres que vous êtes assemblés pour entendre la résolution finale de Sa Majesté concernant les habitants français de cette province de la Nouvelle-Écosse qui, durant un demi-siècle, ont reçu plus d'indulgences que tout autres sujets britanniques du Dominion de sa Majesté. De quel usage vous en avez fait, vous seuls le savez. Le devoir qui m'incombe, quoique nécessaire, est très désagréable à ma nature et à mon caractère, de même qu'il doit vous être pénible à vous qui avez la même nature. Mais ce n'est pas à moi de critiquer les ordres que je reçois, mais de m'y conformer. Je vous communique donc, sans hésitation, les ordres et instructions de Sa Majesté, à savoir que toutes... Vos terres, vos maisons, votre bétail et vos troupeaux de toutes sortes sont confisqués au profit de la couronne, avec tous vos autres effets, excepté votre argent et vos mobiliers, et que vous-mêmes vous devez être transportés hors de cette province. Les _ordres péremptoires de Sa Majesté sont que tous les habitants de ces districts soient déportés, et selon la bonté de Sa Majesté vous permettant la liberté d'apporter tout argent et choses personnelles que vous pourrez transporter sans incommoder les navires sur lesquels vous serez déportés. Je ferais l'impossible pour assurer la sécurité de vos biens et pour vous protéger contre toute acte de brutalité durant leur transport et que des familles entières soient transportées ensemble sur le même vaisseau. Je suis assuré que malgré votre grand malaise durant cet avènement, nous souhaitons que la partie du monde ou vous serez , vous demeurez des sujets fidèles à sa majesté tout en étant un peuple heureux et paisible. Je me dois de vous aviser que le plaisir de Sa Majesté désire vous garder en sécurité sous l'inspection et la direction des troupes de soldats que j'ai l'honneur de commander."__


	2. Flames

**Okay, here's chapter two (yay!). I've been searching a lot, and found out (with some distress) that the English soldiers never let the men leave the church in Grand Pré after the declaration, and kept them captive there until the boats arrived… So I ended up rewriting half of chapter one, and you should go and re-read it (at least the second half, after the line of ******) so you understand what's going on in this chapter… Okay, I know I'm making the English soldiers terribly cruel, but bear in mind that lieutenant Wolfe was only following orders, and that the Acadians deportation was one of the most cruel act from the Europeans ever seen in men history, aside from the Holocaust (well, at least they didn't let the Acadians die in gaz chambers…), so the acts I'm relating are based on true facts I read in books and such. I'm warning you, this isn't a happy story! Also, before you ask, I didn't write the Cajun accent in the LeBeau's speech, simply because they are talking in French, and what you read is a traduction of what they say. When they really talk in English, I'll say it, and will add the accent. Review comments are at the end, friends.**

**Enjoy!**

_Flames_

Belle sighed, and looked up from the woolen shirt she was mending. It had been raining for five days now, and there seemed to be no end at the desastrous weather outside. It had its good, making the grass green and cooling down the temperature. But it kept the kids inside.

They did stay inside the house the first four days, screaming their lungs out. Hyperactive very young children yelling and running inside the house had finaly driven the women crazy, and they sent them outside the fifth day. They would come back covered in dirt and mud, but exhausted. With a little luck, maybe they'd even fall asleep during supper, their head lolling with sleep, and eyes closing against their will, heads threatening to fall in their plates. Belle smiled. She wasn't used to live with so many persons in the same house. But with the men gone, the LeBeau sisters came back to the family house, and brought their children. The house was big enough, but the presence of so many people required a little bit more cooking, and a lot of patience.

Belle looked at the other chair in the living room, making sure Madeleine, Remy's sister, was deep asleep over her knitting, and got up to walk to the big window. The sky was a dark grey, but at least it wasn't raining anymore. Belle narrowed her eyes, looking as far as her eyes could see, but there was still nothing. The road was desperately desert, and there had been no sign of life from the men. Belle swallowed the lump she had in her throat since the carriage had dissapeared over the hill. Surely they would be back soon. Five days was way too much for her, but… She had never travelled, but she knew Grand Pré was quite a ride. She had guessed a two days ride, but maybe she was wrong.

She was about to turn around and sit back when she saw some movement on the road. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see what it was, and tried slowing her heart beat down.

Her heart sank. A single rider, the horse galloping at full speed towards the house. The herd of kids, hearing the horse steps, emerged from behind the house, and stood in front of the entrance. 

Belle ran to the door, waking up Madeleine in the process of tripping over her foot. Her sister-in-law followed her to the door. "What's wrong, Belle?"

"Someone's coming" she answered, and opened the door.

The horse slowed down as he went through the small gate entrance, and head straight to them. Madeleine gasped.

"Maximien?" The young priest jumped off his horse, his wet blonde hair glued to his head, and soft brown eyes blinked, aknowledging their presence. "Why are you here?"

"_Oncle Max!" Éloïse squealed and ran to her father's brother, and Maximien gave her a small smile, opening his arms to her, and he picked her up before turning to the two women. _

"Madeleine... There's something I have to tell all of you."

~~

Maximien sat at the table, focusing on his cup of coffee so he wouldn't have to face the seven women sitting around him, waiting for him to talk about whatever it is he had to say. His mother, his three sisters and three sisters-in-law* were all looking at him. For some obscure reason, he looked up to stare into Belle's eyes. "It seems his Majesty the King of England is tired of us, and sees us like a menace." He looked down at his untouched coffee again, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. "Everywhere in _Acadie_, they captured men and young boys in all the different reunions. Three hundred alone in Grand Pré." A dead silence fell over the kitchen. Belle leaned over the table, her eyes wide with worry.

"You mean they captured our husbands? They're keeping them captured in Grand Pré?" she asked. Maximien nodded.

"It happened two days ago, and I learned it in Baie Ste-Marie only this morning… I came here as fast as I could to warn you."

"Warn us?" Henriette drew her grey brows together. "Surely they will free the men, _non? They didn't do anything wrong…"_

"Of course they did, _mère_." She stopped talking and looked at him, her mouth agape. Maximien took in a deep breath before breaking the news. "They were born Acadians, born francophones and sworn ennemies to the English crown." Henriette looked insulted.

"What are they going to do to us? Hang us for treason, because we were born?" Maximien looked at his mother in the eyes.

"No. They're deporting us. That's why they kept the men captured, so there would be less resistance when they came…"

"They're deporting us? Expulsing us from our homes?" Henriette was standing now, her face red with frustration. "How can they do such a thing? I never thought Englishmen compared themselves to animals! Monsters!" She was pacing to and fro in the kitchen, salt and pepper locks falling from her chignon at the back of her head. Marguerite rose to her feet, and took her hands.

"_Mère…" Henriette didn't listen to her, and turned to Maximien._

"When are they coming? We have to get prepared…"

"_Maman! Maman!" Belle turned her head to the entrance, from where the children shouts could be heard. Alexandre burst into the kitchen, his brown eyes wide with fear under auburn locks. "Red soldiers are coming down the hill, _maman_! And they have guns!" Everyone stood up and walked to the door in frenzy, and Maximien met his mother's eyes._

"I think you got your answer."

~~

Belle ran outside the door to see her son was right. The children were all standing in front of the door on the veranda, and they all turned, eyes wide, to burry their faces in their mother's skirt.**

Sure enough, a group of fifteen red Dragoons was slowly coming down the hill, sitting straight on their horse's back, and pistols hanging over their legs. They also each had a sword, Belle noticed, and her heart leaped. They were seven woman, a priest and a bunch of kids, armed with a hunting gun and kitchen knives. She never liked being pessimistic, but the situation looked hopeless. The group of soldiers came to a halt in front of the veranda. A huge carriage was following them, filled with a dozen women and children. One of the soldiers's horses took a few steps forward, and his rider saluted them, a deep frown on his face. His hair was so black it shinned blue in the eerie lighting, and his pale blue eyes were piercing. Belle shivered. He spoke in English.

"I am lieutenant Logan Wolfe, from the English Dragoons, and we are here on the orders of colonel John Winslow, to take you to Baie Ste-Marie, where it will be decided on where you will be shipped."

"_Parlez en français, monsieur, on ne comprend pas l'anglais***_._" Maximien took a step forward and opened his wool coat, plainly showing the maplewood beaded rosary hanging over his shirt. "I am father LeBeau, from the parish of Ste-Marie" he said, still in French. The soldiers glanced at each other, and Belle repressed a moan. How could they communicate when they couldn't understand each other? The soldiers took care of the manner by drawing out their guns, using international language, and pointing them at the group of women and kids in front of us._

"I said : you're all coming with us" lieutenant Wolfe repeated. Alexandre let out a yelp and let go of Belle's hand to run away.

"Alex! Come back!" Belle yelled as she ran after her son, and her heart stopped when she heard a gunshot, and saw Alexandre fall on the ground, screaming in pain. He sat in the grass, clutching his left leg, and Belle fell on her knees next to him. Juliette stepped forward, raising angry green eyes to meet the lieutenant Wolfe's ice cold ones.

"How dare you shoot on a child?!" she screamed in French at him. "He's only six, how can he tell wrong from right?" Maximien took her arm and drew her back.

"Please, Juliette, the child will be safe. But for now, I think we better do as they say."

They climbed in the carriage, and Belle bandaged Alexandre's foot at best she could. She looked around, searching for her kids. Baby Julien was in his aunt Madeleine's arms, and Éloïse and Sylvain were with Juliette, sitting each side of her and clutching their aunt's waist. Belle sighed. At least her children were okay. Or would be, as soon as they would get the bullet out of Alexandre's foot. But as the carriage slowly walked away from the house, filled with lonely woman and crying children, Belle looked up at the now empty house.

And nearly yelled her heart out, as flames came out of the broken windows, and the roof fell down, raising high flames and a cloud of smoke in the grey sky. The house was no more, and Belle felt fear seeping in her heart as she hoped with all her might that Remy would be waiting for her where the English soldier were taking them.

*** Okay, just so you don't get too lost with all the names, here's a quick list of characters:**

**Jean-Luc**** LeBeau (father), married to Henriette Leblanc LeBeau (mother), _children listed below…_**

**Remy**** LeBeau (main character [duh]), married to Belle Boudreaux LeBeau, _children : Alexandre (6), Éloïse (4), Sylvain (3) and Julien (1)_**

**Henri**** LeBeau (brother), married to Mercy Massé LeBeau, _children _: Thomas (5) and Louise (3)**

**François**** LeBeau (brother), died in battle in 1754**

**Jules**** LeBeau (brother), married to Juliette Gagnon LeBeau, _no children yet_**

**Maximien**** LeBeau (brother), catholic priest, single**

**Jacqueline**** LeBeau Boudreaux (sister), married to Julien Boudreaux (Belle's brother), _children : Anne (2) _**

**Madeleine**** LeBeau Perron (sister), married to Olivier Perron, _no children yet_**

**Marguerite**** LeBeau Savoie (sister), married to Émile Savoie (remember Lapin?), _children : Luc and Marc, twins (1 year old)_**

**In other words, the three sisters are Jacqueline, Madeleine and Marguerite, and the sisters-in-law are Belle, Mercy and Juliette.**

**** They are pretty young… the oldest is Alexandre, and he's 6.**

***** Talk in French, mister, we don't understand English.**

**BJ2**** : I'm sorry, but you'll have to put it down once in awhile, cause this is going to take some time to write! But I do have lots of information, and my storyline is almost finished writing, so it should come quite easily… Glad you like it!**

**LEM**** : I am intending on writing a novel with this story. I've been having this idea for a long time. Though when I do try to edit a book (keyword : try), it'll be in French. I'm considering this story as a tryout, and the final result will probably be a book, with different names and a lot more information. So I'm not doing all this research only for fanfiction, but also for the sake of my dream of writing a book. Maybe…**

**ishandahalf**** : I'm hoping you're still on your angst crave, because it's going to take a while before any romance or fluff comes in… I swear I'll put Rogue in it, in a few (many?) chapters. And don't worry, you'll recognize her. After all, I already fitted ****Logan**** in… And yes, Remy is married to Belle, and they are happy together, but you wait and see all the cruelty I have in my pocket for poor Remy. Gambit torture at its best. *sigh* I hate myself, but darn I love it!**

**marie-josée**** : Hey, une amie! J'étais bien surprise de voir un review en français, mais ça fait du bien après avoir tant écrit en anglais… ça change, et ça fait plaisir. Je suis bien contente que tu apprécies l'histoire. C'est effectivement beaucoup de recherche, mais ça vaut la peine puisque j'ai l'intention de me servir de cette information et de l'histoire pour écrire un livre plus tard (en changeant les noms, bien entendu…)**

**Warmer than Fire**** : Well, the biggest part of researching is done, but like I said to the others, it's not only for fanfiction. Though it does make it more accurate, and I'm a perfectionnist…**

**foofighta**** : Oh, you do know me very well, and no, they won't be happy for long… Sorry, but the eyes are gone, replaced by nice soft chocolate brown eyes. Sorry, but he would have ended on the stake in these years if he had red eyes…**


	3. Irons

**Here I am again! I know you guys can't wait for Rogue to appear, but that won't be until… *counts* I'll try to make her appear in chapter 5, maybe 6… We'll see. Now! Let's go put some angst in that jolly happy story!**

**Enjoy!**

_Irons_

Belle shivered as a cool draft coming from the sea seeped through her clothes. Éloïse huddled closer to her, shivering, and she sighed in anger. What were the English doing, anyway? Waiting for them to freeze to death?

It was October 4, 1755, and the Acadians from the area of Baie Ste-Marie were kept on the bank at Port Royal, waiting for the boats to arrive.

They certainly were taking their time, Belle though. A painful cough came from behind her, and she looked behind to meet Sylvain's glassy eyes. "Oh, Sylvain, don't tell me you caught a cold, _chéri_." She reached out to take the little boy's limp body, and winced when he coughed again.

They had been taken away from their homes, and they were nearly two thousand homeless here in Port Royal. And even if they'd ran away to go back to their houses, Belle knew that only ashes waited for them. Ashes, and certain death if they were recaptured. There had been no news from the three hundred men kept in Grand Pré, and Belle had almost lost all hope of seeing her husband again. Her hand went up to her lips, where he had kissed her before leaving, a month before. Where he had kissed her, just after telling her he'd be back soon.

She squinted her eyes shut, trying not to cry for the umpteenth time. She was taking in a deep breath when Alexandre gently touched her shoulder, making her look up to her oldest son's eyes. "What is it, _chéri?"_

"There's something going on over there, _maman_. Do you think its _papa_ coming?" Belle looked at the direction Alexandre was pointing, and her heart leaped. Could it be?

Dozens of men on horses were circling a large number of walking individuals, and Belle narrowed her eyes, trying to see if they were women and children, like it had been in the last weeks, or men. They came to a stop at the other side of the bank and she suddenly got on her feet, gasping. They were men.

"Mercy! There they are!" Mercy rose to her feet and walked to Belle's side, narrowing her bright green eyes to see. Then her face lit up, and she smiled. 

"It really is them. At last…"

"_Maman_?" It was Thomas this time, and Mercy looked down.

"What, _mon petit_?" Thomas pointed at the ocean.

"There are boats on the water, _maman_." Sure enough, three ships were coming in the harbour, mats pointing to the sky, sails swelling in the strong autumn wind. Belle felt her heart squeeze, and glanced nervously at the group of men at the other end of the bank. Surely they would bring families together…

~~

I climbed one of the rocks nearby, and sat on it. It had taken the English authorities three weeks to finally get us out of the church in Grand Pré, feeding us with stuff you wouldn't even see on a boat, and we had walked a week to get to Port Royal. I was drained of all energy, and the thought of getting on a boat was making me feel sick. I was a farmer, not a sailor. Émile sat down with a deep sigh next to me, and waved to the incredible number of women and children in front of us. "Do you think we could find them?" I shrugged.

"I don't know, Émile. But Winslow said they would keep families together, so  we shouldn't worry." Henri came to stand behind me, and pointed something at the other end of the bank.

"Look. The boats are coming." My heart clenched. I've never been on a boat before.

"It's beautiful" said my brother Jules, sparkles in his eyes. He'd always wanted to be a sailor, but being the son of a farmer, odds had made his life something else.

"Yeah, well, we'll talk about it once on board" I said, looking back at the people in front of us. They were all looking at us with hope, probably looking for their husband or son. We all did the same, but my heart was hoping maybe Belle and the kids had managed to escape in the woods, and seek refuge with the Indians we made trade with. I had heard some had done that, and I knew they'd be safe with them. Maybe.

The boats berthed and the English officers yelled in English at us, pushing us in the back towards the boat. Looks like we were the first to get on the boats. I turned to my father, a deep frown on my face. "How are they going to put families together if they get us on right now?" A feeling of dread was slowly settling in my stomach as I looked around, looking for bright blonde hair, or a brown haired six years old running around. Jean-Luc sighed.

"_Je ne sais pas, Remy_. [I don't know] And I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about it." I turned back to look in his eyes, and the rock in my stomach grew heavier. It wasn't until I was halfway on the embarkation ramp that I turned around to get back on the bank. I had to find them. I couldn't – couldn't !– leave without Belle and my children. Three English Dragoons got a hold of me, though, and I struggled the best I could to keep them from bringing me back on the embarkation ramp. "_Lâchez-moi!" [Let go of me] I yelled in their ears, but they just yelled back at me, slowly dragging me up. From the corner of my eyes, I saw other men trying the same, and together we were giving a hard time to the officers. I drew back my arm and punched an officer in the face. He finally let go of my shirt and stumbled backwards, falling in another officer's arms, and his nose bleeding in profusion. That hadn't been a good idea, and two more officers were on me now, irons* in their hands, and trying to get a hold of my hands._

~~

"What's going on?"

Henriette narrowed her eyes, looking at the commotion on the embarkation ramp, not very far from where they were. She barely smiled when one of the officers fell in the water, but her smile froze suddenly. "It's Remy." Belle ran to her side, Julien in her arms.

"What? Where?" Henriette pointed at the base of the ramp.

"Over there, he's almost made it to the bank." Belle watched as he punched an officer in the face, and as two more officers jumped on him, almost bringing down on his knees. First thing she knew, she was running towards the boat, the baby in her arms.

"Remy!" He heard her, snapping his head in her direction, and fought vehemently with his opponent to get down. Belle tried to walk to the ramp, but was stopped by a firm hand closing on her arm and dragging her back. "_Non, lâchez-moi! Remy!" She turned around to see pale blue eyes, and recognized officer Wolfe. "Vous!__ Lâchez-moi, je dois rejoindre mon mari!" [Let go of me, I have to go with my husband]_

"You have to wait until all men are on board, m'am" he said to her, his voice not as cold as she remembered it. He squeezed her arms, trying to make her understand with gestures what she couldn't understand with words. "You'll get hurt if you go further." She held on tight to the crying baby in her arms and looked at him a long moment, before looking back to the ramp where her husband was still struggling with the officers. She could see he was tiring, though, and one officer clubbed in behind the head with the butt of his gun, and he fell on his knees, almost unconscious, as they put the irons on his wrists.

"_Non_" she whispered. "_Non, Remy!" Logan squeezed her arms again, and she saw compassion in his eyes._

"Stay here, m'am. I'll see what I can do." He left her there as they brought the last men on the boat. She moaned, looking for Remy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

~~

"Colonel?" Monkton turned his head to see lieutenant Logan Wolfe standing next to him. "Colonel, the men are almost all on board, but the women and children are still on shore, sir." Monkton sighed.

"I've got orders, lieutenant Wolfe. When the boat is full, send it." Wolfe looked surprised.

"Forgive me sir, but families will be torn apart…" Monkton looked at him, a hard look in his eyes.

"I said I've got orders from governor Lawrence. Send the ship when it is full."

"It is, sir. But…" Monkton sighed, knowing well what Wolfe was meaning. They had promised the Acadians that families wouldn't be torn apart, but he had received a letter from governor Lawrence. He fumbled in one of his pockets, looking for it. Finding it, he unfolded the sheet of paper, and gave it to lt. Wolfe. The short man read it aloud, his eyes growing with surprise.

"'I am not asking you to wait for the women and children to get on board, send the men without them'…" Wolfe looked up at Monkton, who shook his head sadly. "This is not serious, right?" 

"I'm afraid it is, lieutenant Wolfe."

~~

Belle watched in horror as they pulled up the embarkation ramp, and untied the ship's ropes. "_Non_" she whispered again, and hugged her baby against her chest. She let herself fall on her knees and cried, until a warm hand closed on her shoulder, making her look up in soft brown eyes. "Oh, Maximien, what am I going to do…" Maximien got down on his knees as the rest of the family gathered around them, and took her in his arms. He looked up to see the ship was sailing away, wind blowing in the sails, and taking half of their family with it.

"I don't know, Belle. We'll find a way" he said, quite unconvinced of his own words.

~~

I sat in a dark corner, still dizzy from the hit on my head. I moved a bit, hearing the sound of chains, and opened my eyes. I blinked, a ray of light painfully blinding me, and soon I took in my surroundings. The place was dark and smelled of fish and salt, but a few portholes let in some light, which helped me see that we were about fifty men in the room, probably a section of the hold. I tried to get up, for I lost my balance for some reason and fell on my right side, the irons painfully searing in my wrists. A tall figure loomed over me, grabbing the wall for support, and crunched to look at me. "Are you okay, Remy?" I opened my mouth to reply, but couldn't get words out. I cleared my throat, and looked up at Henri.

"I… I'm alright, I guess" I croaked, and raised a hand to my throat. It stopped in mid-air, though, as I realized I had irons on my wrists. Someone sighed next to me.

"You really had to do something stupid, huh?" I recognized Émile's voice in the darkness, and I sat, my back against the wall. 

"I had to get to Belle." I said, my voice hoarse with despair. Émile sighed again, and Henri sat next to me.

"Good try. Well, you didn't. And the ship sailed." He sounded like he wanted to cry, and I looked down at my hands, the irons gleaming in the pale sunray. And wondered. What was going to happen to our wives, the kids? 

What was going to happen to us?

For the first time in my life, I was truly scared.

*** Irons, in case you didn't already know, are the ancestor of the actual handcuffs. I was much larger and heavier, though, and left painful marks on hands and wrists.**

**What do you think? Review pleeeeeze! I need to know!**

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**foofighta**** : I do love history, and I sincerely hope it shows in the way I write. And btw, Dragoons is not a typo, nor a mistake. Dragoons is the names given to the English crown officers (kinda like the Musketeers in ****France****, though less cool), and it is spelled Dragoons, not Dragons. You worried me with the notice in your review, but I checked it out. Thanks anyways! (for once, I was right!)**

**sweet-chick3 : I'm really sorry to disappoint you, but Belle and Remy love each other in my fic. I was getting tired of Belle being shown as a bitchy woman in other fics, and I wanted to make her a human being for once, and give her feelings. The detail being that know, they're separated, and I will make Rogue appear in the fic (in chapter 5 or 6, like I said in the A/N at the beginning). We haven't seen the last of Belle, though, and my goal is to make you guys think she's… nice?**

**BJ2 : Good news : I've got most of my essential information gathered, so the writing will be faster. Also, I've dropped 16yrs for a time, so all my writing time is put in making this fic good. Yay! So the chapters should be coming faster.**

**WarmerThanFire**** : Rogue coming in _will_ be interesting, I'm promising that. And I'm glad you're learning while reading this… it _was_ my point, after all. **

**ishandahalf**** : I'm afraid you'll have to summon some patience, because Rogue isn't coming in before chapter 5, or even 6… *evil laugh* That should be somewhere during next week-end, if I have time to write more. But I promise it'll be worth waiting! As for Belle and the kids… *thinks* See, you almost were right. They're not dead, of course, but it looks unlikely Remy will see his family anytime soon. I will continue following Belle in her adventures, alternating chapter with Remy's POV and chapter with her, though, so we don't loose track of her and the kids.**

**velvetine*****rose : *wipes a tear away* Awww, you're soooo nice to me! That has to be the nicest thing I've ever seen in a review. Wow, you even read stories because I've reviewed? You've just became my favorite reviewer!**


	4. Rash

**Nope, that's not chapter 5, it's really chapter 4… I've decided it would be less trouble just making it as a new chapter and leaving the note there, and eventualy just remove the note… Good news! I updated my storyline (I swear, it's two pages long…), and it's now official, Rogue is appearing in the next chapter. And now that I've promised it, I'm holding on to my word, and will put her in there, even if I have to write the longest chapter in my whole fanfiction writing experience. Speaking of long chapters… This one is kinda short, but I didn't really need something longer. Besides, I'll take a deep breath and go to sleep, so tomorrow I'll be fresh as bread (yup, fresh bread is good) to write chapter 5. Now read! And review, of course. Oh, and there's something I always wanted to try, just to see what it would do… If chapter 5 never comes out, you'll know why. Hem hem. *climbs on the roof and yells* All of the characters in that story are my creation, and are used with lots of profits, so I'm rich. Of course, I'm writing fanfiction only for fun, and because I have pity of you. *cough* It's okay to dream, right?**

**Enjoy! It's an order!**

_Rash_

"Shhh, _chéri_, let it all out" Belle whispered in Sylvain's ear, gently rubbing his back as he coughed even louder, a tearing sound that made her heart clench in worry. Next to her, sitting on a pillow, Julien was bawling his eyes out, his little face flushed in anger as he used his vocal cords to their maximum strength. "Please, do shut up, child…" a woman nearby said, crunching near Julien and petting his head like he was a stupid dog. Belle glared up at the woman. 

"Leave him alone, please. He's sick, and only one year old."

"But he's annoying" the woman weaned. Belle repressed the urge of punching the woman in the face, but she continued despite Belle's look. "You don't hear _my children complaining all the time…"_

"Back off, woman. Leave us alone." The woman snorted and, raising her nose in the air, walked away. Belle gave up a sigh of relief, and Mercy sat down next to her. She reached out and touched Sylvain's forehead, a worried look on her face.

"He's not feeling any better, huh?" She was answered with chest tearing coughing, and Belle winced at the sound. She hugged her son closer with an arm, and gathered Julien near her with the other. Mercy bent over her and picked up the baby, whispering soothing words in his ears.

"It's getting worse", Belle answered, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "I hope we can get on shore soon, so he can see a healer…"

"The ship only sailed yesterday, Belle. I hope we're not going too far. Maine would be good…" Belle looked up at the sea, where no land could be seen. Gulls were long gone, and there was nothing but deep, blue sea.

"I don't think so, Mercy." She hugged her son closer. Sylvain coughed again and lifted his arms to hug his mother's neck. Belle froze, and reached out a trembling hand to look at Sylvain's hand. His hands were white as marble, but she pulled back his sleeve, exposing bright red skin. She gasped and pulled back the sleeve over his arm, and squeezed her son hard against her chest, memories of a distant illness flooding in her mind. "Mercy…" she whispered, her voice almost inaudible. "Have you… have you ever had smallpox?" Mercy snapped her head up to look at her, then glanced at Sylvain, and then at the crying baby she held in her arms. She shivered, hair rising on her arms, and gathered the baby closer.

"Yes, I had, in 37*… Belle, you really think it could be smallpox? Maybe it's just the flu, you know…" Belle leaned closer to her and showed her the small rash on Sylvain's arm, and the one starting in his neck, tears in her eyes.

"I hope I'm wrong, Mercy."

"Maybe we should tell an officer…"

"_Non_!" Belle looked around, making sure nobody heard, and brought her voice down. "Mercy! They'll throw them overboard!" Mercy looked at her for a long moment, then a the many people standing on the deck, taking care of children, and chatting in hopes of forgetting that they had no idea where they were taken.

"Then we have to hide them. If they do have smallpox, we can't risk everyone catching it, it would be horrible… in the hold, maybe?" Belle glared at her, eyes full of pain.

"They need fresh air, Mercy… even I can't breathe in the hold, imagine a sick baby." Mercy looked down at the child in her arms, and sighed. "Where are Alexandre and Éloïse?" Belle asked, suddenly looking around her.

"They're with Thomas and Louise, over there." Mercy pointed the other side of the deck, and Belle sighed.

"They have to stay away from their brothers, until they feel better." Mercy glanced at Belle, frantically rocking her son in her arms, obvious to his squirming and coughing.

"Belle…" She put a hand on the younger woman's shoulder, and wide, scared blue eyes looked up at her. With her skill at raising her family and her attitude, it was easy forgetting that Belle was still very young.** Mercy felt bad for the poor girl, and thankful that her kids were feeling well. "Belle, we'll find a way. All they need is fresh air, rest and a lot of water."

Belle nodded and got up, the shaking body of her three years old in her arms, and Mercy stood up with baby Julien. They we silently walking to the back of the boat when someone stood in front of them. Belle looked up in lt. Wolfe's eyes, and nearly sighed in annoyance. He looked at her, suspicious blue eyes under bushy brows. "You need some help, m'am?" It sounded kind enough, and she dropped her guard a little.

"_Mes… my chile… _Ils sont malades, ils ont la grippe_." [My… my children…They're sick, they have the flu.] Logan looked down at the now sleeping baby in her arms, flushed with fever. His expression softened._

"They're sick? What did you say…? The_ grip_? What's that? The flu?" Belle nodded frantically, and, resting the baby's weight on her waist, she raised her right hand, and mimed drinking.

"De flew…_Ils ont besoin d'eau… _de l'eau_…" [They need some water… water…] Logan nodded, and looked sadly at the small children in the women's arms._

"Water, I can see that… but it's rationed, m'am. I'm sorry, I can't give you more. Everyone's sick on that boat." She couldn't understand his words, but she understood the sad shaking of his head, and looked down at Julien, tears in her eyes.

"_Alors…_ je lui donnerai la mienne_." [Okay then… I'll give him mine.]_

~~ (Three weeks later)

Lt. Wolfe looked sadly at the fifteen bodies laying on the deck, wrapped in linen blankets, and waiting to be thrown at the see. In three weeks, smallpox had appeared on the boat, and many had died, the bodies in front of him not being the first, and probably not the last. They had quarantined the sick in the hold, trying to keep away the illness, and they hadn't had any new cases in the last three days. Logan's eyes drifted against his will to the four smaller bundles of blankets, small children hit hard by the illness. Two of them had died in the space of a week, and the two others, God knows for what horrible reasons, suffered the rash and illness for over twenty days of pain. He sighed, and repressed the need to touch the smallest of the deceased children, a small one year old boy.

A few minutes later, when they threw the bodies overboard, Logan Wolfe clenched his hands into fists at his sides. And when one of the sailors took the smallest body, he looked away, only to have his heart tore in two as a young mother fell on her knees, howling and crying, clutching her two remaining children against her chest, her long blonde hair falling over their heads.

* There wasn't really an epidemic of smallpox in Acadia in 1737. I just needed one so Mercy and Belle couldn't catch it on the boat, that would suck. And yes, it is possible to have smallpox and survive. In normal conditions, only 30% die.

** Belle was 17 in 1749, when she married Remy, so she was born in 1732. At the Deportation, in 1755, she's 23, and mother of four. Even in these years, it's still very young.

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**foofighta**** : Don't make you cry? You really think that if I had the power to make people cry over my stories, I wouldn't use it? Be prepared to cry, honey. The worse is yet to come. Told yah life wouldn't be easy for our favorite Cajun… Acadian… whatever.**

**ishandahalf**** : Calm down! Don't panic! You really though I would have bothered mentionning Rogue, if I didn't have the intention of making her romanticaly involved with Remy? *motherly smooths back ishandahalf's hair and gently pats her back* There there. There's nothing to be afraid of. It was only a nightmare, you imagine bad, bad things… You only have one thing to think about, darling… Sherston. Remember that name. You won't be dissapointed, dear romy fan. It's a promise. Now, have a cookie (careful! They're still hot hot hot!) and a glass of milk. One is good… but two is better.**

**LEM**** : Oh, but the accent Cajuns have today, and the accent Acadians had in the 18th century is very different… In fact, today Acadians (in fact, they're more like Nova Scots (or whatever they're called)) still have pretty much the same accent they had 200 years ago, but the Cajuns got influenced by Spanish (who owned Louisiana when the Acadians came) and English, so the two languages are kinda different today. If I dared using one of the accents when they talked french (which is useless, since I put into English everything they say), I'd use the Acadian accent, which is more accurate, and which I know better than the Cajun accent. When Remy will talk English (which he will learn to do in the following chapters), I'll use his regular charming accent, I promise!**


	5. Horses

Ah HA! (familiprix) There it is! Chapter 5 (or 6, whatever), after so much time… And I kept my promise! Okay, I wrote this, used the grammar check and didn't even re-read it… I'm hoping it's okay…

Enjoy!

_Horses_

We had been sailing for two weeks, and the ship had been going on smooth waters for a while, and it swayed less, letting us stand on our two feet and giving me a chance to overcome my seasickness. I still couldn't look at a piece of bread without having my stomach making loops in my insides, but at least I wasn't puking my guts out every time I breathed in anymore. We were still on a boat, not knowing where they were taking us, and I still had my irons on my wrists. I was worried sick about my kids. I couldn't take it anymore.

I sighed and tried putting my attention back to the game in front of me, and the cards in my hand. On an empty wooden box laid dry cookies and coins, stakes for the secret poker games we were playing when no soldier was around. Everyone was out of the game now though, except me, of course, and Julien. Julien was my wife's brother, but also my sister's husband. Brother-in-law in more than one way, and more than one way to hate the guy. Especially when he looked at the three aces and two kings I put on the box, trying to ignore the clinging of the chains at my wrists, and he raised his cold blue eyes to mine. "You cheated!" he gasped, and I raised my eyebrows.

"What did you just say?" He rose to his feet, face flushed.

"You cheated! You hid those cards!" I frowned, and I saw Henri stepping forward, and Émile walking to stand behind me. I rose as well, not looking away from Julien.

"I never cheat, Julien. Never heard of luck?"

"Never heard of a lucky bastard, no." My vision became red, and I lunged at him. He saw me coming, though, and stepped aside before pushing me against a wall. I managed to punch him in the stomach, but he got a hold of the two feet long chain linking my hands together and pulled it down sharply, almost bringing me to my knees. I quickly rose, throwing a hook in his side and making him double up, clutching his inside. I pulled him against the wall, and grabbed the chain, bringing it under his neck. He gasped and cough under the strangling sensation, his Adam apple bobbing up and down like crazy under the cold steel chain.

"Don't push me, Julien." He opened his mouth to reply when the door opened suddenly to reveal two soldiers. I sighed, and stepped away as the soldiers ran in the room to grab me by the shoulders, pulling me away from a gasping Julien.

~~

Captain Summers was sitting behind a desk covered with maps and papers of all sorts, and had his elbows leaning on the desk, his chin resting on his crossed fingers. He glared at me as I entered, escorted with two soldiers. He didn't blink, but sighed rather loudly. I smiled.

"Mister LeBeau." I nodded at him.

"_Capitaine_ Summers, _bonjour." He rolled up his eyes._

"What have you done again, LeBeau? Jump off the ship again? Tried to kill that other man again, Boudreaux?" I narrowed my eyes, recognizing Julien's name despite the accent, and Summers saw it. He smiled. "I wonder what he's done to you, LeBeau. You seem like an honorable man…" He rose to his feet and walked in front of me. He was tall, almost as tall as me, and he had the most ridiculous white wig on his head, but I could tell by his eyebrows that his hair were a deep brown. He was very young to be a captain, I could see that. And I was giving him trouble. I grinned. He took my smile as an approval of whatever he said. "But I cannot keep you on board. You're too much trouble, and I don't need it." He walked away from me and to the window, and I nearly broke into laughter. That guy walked like he had a…

"_Excusez-moi, Capitaine Summers_…" He turned around, an eyebrow rising in inquiry. "_Avez-vous besoin d'aide pour retirer ce bâton de votre cul?" [excuse me, captain Summers… Do you need any help to pull that stick from your butt?] Captain Summers frowned, probably wondering what the hell I just said, and I just stood there, a large grin on my face. This was fun. One of the soldiers snorted, but quickly turned it into a light coughing. Oh, so they were bilingual people in this world?_

"What did you just said?" he asked, and then turned to the soldiers still coughing. "You! Did you understand what he said?" The soldier quickly recovered, and looked lost for a few seconds.

"Huh, no, captain. I didn't notice." Summers snorted. So maybe he wasn't a complete fool. 

"Alright. I have a friend who lives near St-Mary's river, in Georgia. We'll leave you there before heading forward to the Louisianne." The soldier next to me took a sudden intake of breath, and I was taken away from the office. When the door shut, I turned to the young soldier and grabbed his shoulders.

"What did he say?" I asked him in French. "What is he going to do to me?" He bit his lips.

"_Comprendre_… _français. _Pas_ __bien…_parler_?" I nearly sighed in despair at his incredible accent. _

"Please, try." He nodded.

"_Bateau_…ship… _va _Louisianne_, _va_ New-__France… _Toi_ __pas. _Toi_…go…__aller Georgia, __aller __plantation. Work for planter… _Travailler._" Nearly incomprehensible. Nearly. But I got the main point, and my hands slid from his shoulders to fall at my sides, my shoulders slumping. The soldier shook his head, looking sorry. "_Moi_…sorry… _désolé_."_

~~

They stopped the ship only for me, I could say I won that at least. But as the ship when away with my only chance of freedom, I'm sure I heard my heart break in three parts. One with Belle and my children, one with my freedom sailing away as I stood on the ground, trying to get my land legs back, and a last part, as small as a baby's hand, still thumping wildly in my chest to keep my alive. Could such a small heart give me life? At that very moment, I seriously doubted it. The man standing next to me took a look at the irons still binding my wrists, and put a hand on my shoulder. "Come on, man, let's go see tha blacksmith so he can take these off yah hands." And when the irons were cut off my wrists, he looked down at me as I sat on a small bench, and smiled. "Come on, stretch yahr arms. Yah haven't got tha chance tah do that in a while, didn't yah?" 

Later, I was gently rubbing the bright red marks on my wrists as I sat in the boat that would take us down St-Mary's river, down to God only knows where. The panorama was beautiful, I had to say, but right now I wanted to get away as far as I could from that boat and water. There were three men accompanying me. There was the one I'd identified as the good guy, and two others who looked like they wanted to ignore me more than anything in the world. They were right; for them I was a Frenchmen. No better than the nigers they were using as slaves in their plantations. I shivered at the thought. Was that what was awaiting me? My piece of heart trembled, and I wondered what could happen that could tear it into pieces again. Nothing could go worse, couldn't it?

It took three days before we stopped, and one of the men motioned me to get off the boat. A carriage was waiting, and there was a bald man standing outside of it, a walking stick in his hand. The three men escorted me to the carriage, and the bald man looked at me before turning to the other men. They talked for a while, and finally the bald man nodded, and I was pushed at the back of the carriage with the three men. We rode for a few hours on rocky roads, and there were acres of sugar plants around us, hiding the view. I swallowed. I could never live like this, it was a matter of life or death. We finally arrived at a gigantic house, and I hoped down from the carriage. The bald man walked in front of me, and stared at me for a few moments. "Horse?" he suddenly asked, and I blinked in incomprehension. He pursed his lips, and put a hand on his chest. "Lord Sherston. Charles Sherston." He pointed at my chest, and raised his eyebrows.

"Remy LeBeau." He nodded, and pointed at the horses hitched up at the carriage.

"Horses." I nodded, swallowing. This was the first time an Englishman actually took the time to communicate with me. Revelation. "Do you love horses?" He joined his hands on his chest, and pulled them away, as if he was pouring his heart out. "Love?" I nodded. "Love the horses?" My eyes lightened and he smiled when I nodded. He limped to one of the horses, and put his hand on the leather bridle. He mimed the gesture of taking it off and raised his eyebrows again at me. My heart thumped. I understood. I walked to the horses, and started taking the hitching off from them. Lord Sherston smiled and pointed at a brown barn not very far away. "Stables. Where you work, where you sleep."

~~

I let myself fall in a pack of hay, sighing in relief. Six horses for a single carriage? I closed my eyes, ready to go to sleep, when a shadow came over me and blocked the sun coming through the stable door. I opened my eyes, and nearly jumped. The man in front of me was entirely black, and his teeth showed clearly when he smiled at my surprise. He reached out a hand to help me up, and I took it. "_Amiki_" he said when I was up and in front of him, and he saw I was taller than him. "_Suis _ami_." [am friend] I smiled._

"You can talk French?" I ask him in the same language. He nodded.

"_Un peu_…_Assez pour parler. _Assez pour comprendre toi_." [A little… Enough to talk. Enough to understand you.] "Me Ibbo. You?"_

"Remy" I answered. "You work in the stables?" He nodded with energy, a wide smile on his lips.

"You too, Remy. You work with me, work with horses. Be careful, must be careful." I frowned.

"Be careful? Careful of what?"

"Careful of Miss Mary. Wants to run away, must not. Careful of Miss Mary."

"Mary?"

"Mary Sherston, daughter of Lord." I smiled. A girl didn't scare me at all. I've seen more… I patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry. If she comes, she has to talk to me."

~~

Nights were long, very long, as I laid in my makeshift hay bed and looked out the window. They were also very short, considering I couldn't sleep and was really tired during the day. But I managed. One night, though, I was slowly drifting to sleep, when I heard the stable doors open. I opened my eyes suddenly as I heard light footsteps, and I lifted my head. A short, slim feminine figure was walking through the stable, obviously looking for one horse in particular. I got on my feet and walked silently behind her, gently putting a hand on her shoulder.

"_Je peux vous aider, mamzelle*?" I whispered in her ear.[Can I help you, missy?] She jumped and turned, putting both her hands on her mouth as she nearly screamed in surprise, and I took a step back, raising my hands, ready to claim my innocence. "_N'ayez pas peur, mamzelle… S'il vous plaît_." [Don't be scared, missy… please.] She took a step back too, the look of surprise on her face slowly morphing into rage, and a ray of moonlight lightened her face, showing emerald green eyes glittering with anger._

"Who the hell are yah?" she asked, taking a step forward. Not one to be scared by an angry young woman, I didn't move a toe.

"_Je suis désolé, mamzelle, je ne parle pas anglais…" [Sorry missy, I don't talk English…]. She narrowed her eyes angrily, and it was then I noticed she wasn't dressed like the daughter of a wealthy planter was supposed to. Her long and dark curly hair was tied up at the back of her neck. In riding boots and brown leather riding pants, along with a white shirt and wool coat, that girl was dressed to ride. And according to the packsack she was carrying on her back, to ride far away. She put her hands on her haunches and tilted her head, eyeing me._

"Yah must be that Acadjan** guy my father hired." Well, at least I caught the word Acadian, so I knew she was talking about me. "Leave me by, Acadjan." she said again with a horrible accent. What's so hard to pronounce in Acadian? She took a step left to make a circle around me, but I stepped aside, blocking her. She glared at me, and I smiled.

"_On dit ' Acadien'. __Et vous devez être mamzelle Mary, je présume." [It's 'Acadian'. And you must be miss Mary, I presume.] Bad move. She probably didn't understand French, but she heard her name, and her eyes blazed, it such a thing was possible. I repressed the urge to walk away and let her go wherever it was she wanted to go, but before I could move, she reached out and grabbed my collar, pulling me down with incredible force for such a young woman. My face was now inches from hers, and I almost forgot the situation I was into to loose myself in incredible green eyes before she almost spat in my face._

"You…" she hissed, and looked at a loss of words for a few seconds, probably looking for a good insult. But her face changed drastically, and she actually smiled at me, showing pearl white teeth in a perfect smile. My heart skipped a beat as she tilted her head to the right. "Yah know, in tha moonlight, yah have beautiful eyes, Acadjan." It sounded nice enough to my ears, so I guessed that was a compliment.

"_Merci, mamzelle Mary. Pourriez-vous me lâcher, maintenant?_" [Thank you, miss Mary. Could you let go of me, now?] She frowned and loosened her grip on my collar.

"Yah don't talk English?" she asked in a curious voice. I opened my mouth to repeat my incapacity to understand her when the stable doors opened suddenly behind her, and I looked up to stare in Lord Sherston's angry eyes.

"Mary!" he howled. "What are you doing in here again?"

**to be continued...**

* French-Canadian slang for 'mademoiselle'

** That's not a typo, it's the beginning of the oral transition from 'Acadian' to 'Cajun'.

**Reviews!**

**Foofighta**** : HERE! Promised I would update before I go to bed! Even better, it helped me fight this meany writer's block and write the whole thing in a few hours! Yay!**

**BJ2**** : Hum, sorry, yup, Remy and Rogue have to be joined at the hip in my stories… Love them too much for that. Anyways, Remy can't very well wait for his family to appear… it doesn't look like he'll be seeing Belle in a while, don't you think? Now, you don't think Remy's the kind of  man who should stay alone for so long? What a waste!**

**ishandahalf**** : Okay, she's gonna get romanticaly involved with Remy, promise. As for staying, I can't tell you, or I'll ruin my storyline and the surprise. Can't tell! You must wait! Oh, and for the cookie… If I give you a great Romy scene, will you drop the cookie? I hate cookies, I have none in my kitchen…**

**Meari**** : Wow, thanks, very nice review… I love history as well, and putting Remy in it, and at the same time informing people about French history… I'm in heaven as well!**

**Yumiko**** : *giggles* I really couldn't write Remy without Rogue, could I? Well, you must be happy now, there she is. And full of attitude with that…**

**Jaenelle Angeline**** : What a cute name, I really like it. Thanks for taking the time, I wish I had the time to read all the stories of all the people that review my fics… *sigh* I barely have time to write myself!**


	6. Water

**There! Sorry that took a lot of time, but I had oh-so much work to do last week with my midterms… *sigh* but now it's over, and I have my "fall-break" : a whole week to myself! So here's the next chapter… Sorry for any mistakes… My Word corrector is crazy, and I wanted to post this asap…**

**Enjoy!**

_Water_

_December 10, 1755_

Mercy pat Belle's back, a worried look in her eyes. "Belle…" The blonde woman raised a hand to stop her as she pulled away from the railing, wiping her mouth.

"I'm not sick, Mercy." The brunette shook her head.

"I never said that, Belle. But you've been sick for days, every day… Maybe… Maybe there's something else going on." Belle shot Mercy a sharp look.

"_Non_."

"Belle…"

"_Non_. I can't be." She tried to walk away, her head bent to hide her face behind dirty blonde locks, but Mercy grabbed her arm and put her other hand on her cheek, tilting her head up. She stared in Mercy's green eyes, letting her tears fall freely from her eyes. "I can't be, Mercy. It's been too long…" The older woman put her arms around her shaking shoulders.

"Shh, Belle, that wouldn't be a bad thing… Besides, it's been two months since we've been separated from our husbands. It's normal that you haven't noticed until now."

"Mercy, I don't even know if I'll see him again" she whispered between two hiccups. A tugging at her skirt made her look down. "Alex" she said, quickly wiping her tears away, "what… what's that?" Alexandre looked down at the piece of bread in his hands, and then back at his mother.

"_C'est du pain, maman._" [It's bread, mom] He handed her the small piece of rye bread, his soft brown eyes so much like his father's. "For you." Belle took the bread, but looked down at her son.

"Why?"

"Cause you need it." The simple answer made her smile through her tears. What a sweet child. She tried to push the bread back in his small hands.

"But why would I need it more than you, Alex? I'm all grown up now, but you still have to eat lots if you want to get as big as _papa."_

"But _maman_! _Papa said a _maman_ had to eat a lot when she had a baby in her tummy." Belle froze, her mouth agape. She finally moved, reaching for her son's head and pushing away a long auburn lock from his dark, worried eyes._

"Who told you that I had a baby in my tummy, _chéri?"_

"No one, _maman_. But you were sick like that when _papa_ told me I was going to have another brother, two _Noël*_ ago. I guessed." Tears welled up at Belle's eyes again as she pulled her son in tight embrace. She kissed the dark hair on his head, when a violent jerk shook the boat. Belle fell on her knees, holding her son tight against her, and Mercy grabbed the railing with a small yelp, trying to stay up. 

"What was that?" she asked. Everyone was running to the front of the boat, and Belle's eyes went wide with terror as a small iceberg slowly floated away from the shaking boat.

"_Oh mon Dieu_…"

**

"Éloïse!" Her son's hand tight in hers, she entered the dormitory where everyone slept, looking for her daughter. "ÉLOÏSE!"

"Maman?" a scared voice called from behind her. Belle whirled and sighed with relief when she saw her daughter's wide blue eyes. She grabbed the little hand and ran outside. 

"Come on, _bébé_, we have to get off the boat." But to go where? In the middle of December, the water would be freezing. She caught a flash of red, and ran in that direction.

"_Officier_ Wolfe!" The man turned around. He looked tired, she saw, but she needed help. She had to get her children off that ship, and on one of the two others who were following them. "_J'ai besoin d'aide, officier… help…" He looked at her a few moments, and pointed at the mass of people running around. _

"Ye're not alone, lady. I'm doing my best." She spotted a rescue boat on which some people were packing children, and she pushed her own towards officer Wolfe. He looked at them, and then up at her. 

"Please" she pleaded, and the man nodded, picking up Éloïse. Belle watched with tears in her eyes as her two remaining children were packed in the small boat, and as the men on board rowed in the direction of the _Penelope, the other ship._

It was then she saw the third boat, the _Violet_, was sinking.** It was also then she looked up at the sky and the millions of stars over her head, and she grabbed the railing. And as another tear ran down her cheek, she put a foot on the railing, then the other, and she jumped.

She had hoped she would have died on impact on hard water, or at least loose consciousness, but instead of that, the freezing December water instantly seeped into her clothes, waking up every sense in her body and taking her breath away. She barely managed to swim towards the ship not very far away. 

Soon her arms became heavy, and she felt like the depths under her were tugging at her skirt, pulling her below the surface. She felt something tearing up in her stomach, and felt something warm oozing between her thighs. Her eyes full of tears at the thought of loosing a baby she didn't even have yet, she grabbed on a piece of wood, and began to pray. "_Notre Père, qui êtes aux cieux, que votre nom soit sanctifié… que votre règne vienne, sur la Terre comme au ciel…"***_

**

Her nose hurt, and she tasted salt in her throat. She coughed, and heard an exclamation beside her. "She's waking up! Alex, _maman's waking up!" Alex. Éloïse. She forced her will to let her open her eyes, and she managed to crack them open long enough to see the marvelled faces of her children. Then she saw Mercy's face, and smiled._

"Where are we?" Mercy's soft hand brushed her forehead, pushing away some blonde locks.

"On the _Penelope_, Belle. And safe. Everyone's safe." Her eyes held a dark shadow, though, and Belle sat up, watching her sister-in-law's face.

"Everyone?" Mercy looked down at her hands.

"Not really. I managed to get on the same boat as Éloïse and Alex with Thomas and Louise, but I can't find Anne, or Luc or Marc… I can't find anyone****." Belle closed her eyes, thinking about her sweet sisters-in-law, and their children. "But Belle…"

"What?" She looked at Mercy again, who bit her lower lip.

"I found out where we're going, Belle. The _Penelope's going to France."_

_* Christmas_

_** Based on real facts. On December 10, the Violet and the Duke William, two ships who were bringing hundreds of Acadians in __Europe__, sunk. Though I'm not sure about the iceberg, maybe it was a storm… I added the third ship, the Penelope, though there probably was other ships around, since some people were rescued. _

_*** Belle is reciting the Pater Noster (the Lord's prayer) in French._

_**** Just a reminder : Thomas and Louise are Henri and Mercy's children, Anne is Julien Boudreaux and Jacqueline's daughter, and Luc and Marc are Marguerite and Émile's; Marguerite, Madeleine and Jacqueline being Remy's sisters._

~~~

_December 20, 1755___

"Hey, Acadjan!" I didn't even turn around. I already told her my name so many times in a month, I wasn't about to tell her again. I heard her sigh angrily, and smiled. She had the most wicked temper on this side of the ocean, and her anger was easy to wake. And it probably was my favorite game.

Since the night we met, Mary hadn't come back for another midnight visit, and avoided me at all costs. But being the person who took care of her nice cinder grey mare, she was doomed to see me each time she would enter the stables. I could see she was dying with curiosity though, shooting a curious glance at me and the Creole each time we would talk to each other in French. And, just for fun, I would look at her and shoot her one of my best smiles, just for the pleasure of seeing her blush and look away each time.

I learned from Ibbo that she was the youngest child in the Sherston family. She had a sister, Geneva, and a brother called William, who took care of the plantation with his father. Lord Charles Sherston had been suffering of a disease which made walking more and more difficult, so I'm guessing the young man's help must have been appreciated by the middle-aged man. His wife, Isobel, was a strong woman who led the house slaves with a steel hand. I, myself, had only worked with young William who, at age 20, was more than unsure in that business and worked his ass off to make his father's plantation run. It was difficult thinking of him as a boss, but the young man had earned my respect with his efforts. Geneva was another story. The nineteen years old girl wouldn't even come near the stables, let alone a slave. The brown-eyed girl would let out a yelp each time she saw me. It would have been annoying if it hadn't been so funny.

According to Ibbo's information, the night I met Mary was her fifth try to escape her father's plantation, and the last. The reason why she wanted to get away was still a mystery to me.

"Acadjan!" The voice came from much nearer, and I turned around from my work to meet her eyes as she stood a few feet away from me and the horse, arms crossed on her chest. 

"_Mon nom est Rémy, mamzelle._" [The name's Remy, miss.] I turned back to the horse foot I was cleaning, and I heard her furious intake of breath. "_Vous semblez bien habituée à traiter avec des esclaves, mamzelle Mary. Le problème, c'est que je ne suis pas habitué d'en être un." [You seem to be used to live with slaves, miss Mary. The problem is, I'm not used to being one.] She exhaled, and I heard the tapping of her foot on the hard-packed surface._

"Remy," she said much lower, in an effort to be polite, "Ah need mah horse." Obtaining no reaction, she stamped her foot on the ground. "Now!" I chuckled and got on my feet, turning to her and looking at her directly in the eye. 

"_Vous pourriez avoir l'air gentille, si vous souriiez. Pourquoi tenez-vous tant à être une petite peste?_" [You could look nice, if you smiled. Why do you insist on being a little pest?] She flushed, recognizing the word _peste_, and opened her mouth to yell some more, but another voice came from the other end of the stables.

"Remy, get Mary's horse, please." We both turned to see William bringing back his own horse back in. He gave me a stern look, though I could see smiles dancing in the brown irises. "Before she kills yah." I nodded and walked away. I could feel her eyes burning my back, and wished I could understand what they said.

"Why does he listen to yah?"

"Cause I'm _nice_ with him, Mary…"

"Even if yah're nice, he can't understand yah, he's French…" William laughed.

"Well, if he doesn't understand me if Ah'm nice, will he understand better if Ah'm yelling at him? He's one of the most hard-headed men Ah've met. Tha more yah yell at him, tha less he moves. Besides, he _can understand, Mary. Yah can't live in tha middle of English speaking people without catching a few words."_

"But he's so impertinent!" William chuckled.

"So are yah, sister. Give'im a chance." He was walking away, leaving me to care for his brown stallion, when I came back, the grey mare's bridle in hand. Mary turned to me, her lips pursed. She reached out and gently caressed the mare's nose, not looking at me.

"Would… could you saddle her, Remy?" she asked, her eyes intent on the horse's mane. "Please?" she quickly added. I smiled, patting the horse's back. 

"_Bien sûr_." [Of course] She looked authentically surprised, and I laughed. "Please… it's good word." She gave me a feeble smile and looked at me the whole time I saddled the horse, holding it's bridle. She stayed silent as I walked away, but cleared her throat as I took William's stallion's bridle.

"Remy…" I turned back to her, eyebrows raised. The change in her attitude was startling, and I was beginning to wonder if she was the same girl. "Ah'm sorry. D'yah know that word? Ah'm sorry?" I looked at her a long time, the words making their way in my head as I translated what she said. Then I slowly nodded.

"_Oui_" I said softly. I was about to turn back again when she spoke in a light voice, tainted with curiosity.

"How do you say it in French?"

**To be continued… (soon, I hope…)**

**Now before you comment on Remy's progress in English, I would like to mention that he still can't understand it, let alone talk it fluently, but he did link some repeated words with their reference (as anybody would do in a foreign country), especially those referring to the work he has to do on the plantation, such as horse, stables, bridle, saddle, French, English, please, thanks, etc. Intonations and gestures can also help a lot… 90% of the message you deliver comes through non-verbal means.**

**Review comments :**

**Igamblelife**** : Wow, you've just won the award of the longest review ever on this fic (no offence to ishandahalf!), and the first thing I'm going to say is thank you for pointing out the mistakes… I've learned a lot about English writing since June when I started writing on ff.n, but I still have lots to learn, and probably always will. Thanks. Second, I know Rogue is from ****Mississippi****, not ****Georgia****, but if I'm not wrong, ****Mississippi**** didn't exist yet in 1755 (I think it was added as a state in 1817, found that on mississippi.gov… :-) So ****Georgia**** it was. As for the accent, I'm guessing the southern accent wasn't as pronounced, if it existed at all, in 1755, but Rogue just wouldn't be the same without it! Oh, and you don't know how happy you made me by saying I helped you learning some French! Wow! I never knew my fics could do that… Hope you're still learning :-) As for sixteen years… This fic is finished, in some kind of way, but I'm currently building up a plot for a sequel, so I can begin it as soon as Medieval Times is finished (which shouldn't be really long). **

**WarmerThanFire**** : Oh good, learning is good! Are you learning some French too? *grins* I feel like a teacher. Which is also good, since I've been studying my ass off to become one in the last 3 years… And yeah, poor Remy, poor Belle, poor everyone… Get used to it, though, this _is a drama :-P_**

**Yumiko**** : lol! Well, Rogue is the daughter of a wealthy planter, so it is allowed to think that she might be a spoiled little brat. She's learning respect, though, give her some time…**

**velvetine*rose**** : Communication on the way! Don't worry!**

**ishandahalf**** : Oh, I was so hoping to have a comment on Remy's insult to Scott. I was so happy. Insulting in French is so much funnier than in English! And the good stuff is coming, it's already begun in this chapter… Give them some time! The age difference isn't that important (he's 26, she's 18… not too bad isn't it?), but Remy _is_ married to Belle, and is probably still hoping on seeing her and the kids again. You're worried about the whole Belle thing? Well, you should. It's not easy putting aside the thought of your wife and four children (he doesn't know two of them are dead, after all… Oh, my, I sound so cruel…). But don't worry! You got me hooked with the idea of cookies… I love cookies!**

**foofighta**** : lol, on with the YMCA! As for the big black guy, he's Creole, and lots of islands (****Jamaica****, per example) belonged to ****France****, so people on these islands spoke French… How that Creole guy ended up on a Georgian plantation… beats me. And Mary is Mary, simply because I want to leave it that way. Looks too much like French written Marie… Besides, I personally think they gave Rogue a name in the movie, just so people wouldn't bother them with it… So Mary it is! And yes, he played cards on a boat and got into a fight with Julien! And now, after reading this chapter, you can see I take your ideas really seriously! Be careful what you say! Just because it isn't in my original storyline, means I can't add it up… Call me cruel, or even evil… heck, I like it!**


	7. Confusion

***hugs and kisses her muse* You're back! I've missed you so much…*turns to face reviewers with flushed face* Well, what do you know, it's an update… I haven't updated that story since… *looks at the date and gasps* Oh my God, October 19? Darn. Almost a month… *pouts* I'm sooo sorry, no excuses; I'm just having way too much fun working on a nice crossover with author foofighta. Anyhow, my updates are slower, and the situation probably won't change in the following weeks… I'm finishing school at Christmas, though, and then I don't start my training course (which will probably keep me away from my computer from February to April included) until February 2d, and that leaves me a month to write… *touches wood* I hope. You can blame me for taking a lot of time to update, but don't blame me for lying!**

**Pay attention to the dates from this chapter forward… I can already tell you this story ends in 1768, so you can guess I'll skip a few months once and awhile, or this story will take forever…**

**Enjoy!**

_Confusion_

_August 1756_

"Whoooa! _Attention_!" I let go of the bridle and Ibbo took many steps back as the stallion kicked out in a last attempt to bring us down, its hooves barely missing my head. I quickly backed up from it and the horse trotted along in circles in the fold, shaking its red head furiously to get rid of the bit and bridle. I wept my forehead with my shirt sleeve and looked at my bloody palms, the skin of it ripped raw with holding the leather bridle. That damn horse was crazy.

"We never make it, Remy." I turned to smile up at Ibbo. He was perched on the fence, his elbows resting on his knees. A gleam of sweat shone under the sun on his nearly black skin, and he smiled down in return, dashing white teeth shinning in contrast with his dark face. "Or we die in the process" he said in French.

"We'll die in the process, then." I was about to say more when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, meeting hazel eyes. "_Monsieur Sherston, _bonjour_." William nodded in return and leaned on the fence._

"Any luck, Remy?"

"M'fraid _non_, _monsieur Sherston. Dat beast's evil incarnated." I flinched, like I always did when I talked English. I had learned it fast, thanks to William and Mary, but it still sounded horrible to my ears._

"Took on' hour, Sir, just put de bridle on" Ibbo continued, and William chuckled.

Lord Sherston had made the acquisition of a new horse. A huge two-year-old Arabic stallion the color of burning fire, Diavolo* bore its name with pride, and watched us with black eyes full of hatred. I had to admit it was beautiful. Its hard muscles rolled under the sweat covered ruddy fur and it shook its head in an angry movement, its black mane falling over its long, well shaped head. I fell in love with that beast the moment it was brought at the plantation, but that feeling had quickly faded into reciprocal hate during the hour it had taken me, Ibbo and three other men to put the damned thing in its loose box, one of the men ending on his butt with a broken arm in the process. Three weeks had passed since its arrival at Silver Lake plantation, and today was the first time we had managed putting something around Diavolo's head without it being a lasso thrown from fifteen feet away. The horse had a bridle on. Great. I already shivered at the idea of taking it off.

"Who you intendin' on killin' with de horse?" William snorted.

"Mary chose the horse. We tried telling her she could never ride it, but she insisted, saying yah could tame it anytime." I snorted and shook my head.

"De way I see it, _Monsieur_ William, it be me who's bein' tamed." He only laughed.

"Ah well, Remy, yah'll find a way. Yah always do."

~~

The horse kept walking in circles in the fold, snorting and shaking its head in the moonlight. I chuckled, impressed with the animal's pride and persistence in looking stupid, and walked away from the window to lie on my small bed. My mind was already slowly drifting to sleep when I heard someone climbing the ladder to the second story of the stable. I sat up and narrowed my eyes, trying to see who was there. "Remy? Are yah asleep?" 

"_Non_. Mary, what are'y doin' here?" She walked to the window where I had been standing before, and I frowned at what she was wearing. She had some pants on instead of her usually skirt, but wore a simple white shirt. A woollen coat was thrown on her shoulders, and she hugged over her chest, sighing deeply.

"Ah can't sleep." She turned to look at me, and tilted her head to the side. "How?" I smiled.

Since the episode in the stables, we had become good friends. In secret, that is, since Lord Sherston probably wouldn't approve her daughter having civilized conversations with a slave. She often came to the stables to talk about the horses, about her life here in the colonies. My life in Acadia was delicately left out of the strange frenglish conversations we had. She knew why I was here, but I knew she was curious about my former life. Instead, we had a little game we liked to play. She was more than interested in learning some French, and I had to learn English. It was a fair exchange, and we were enjoying each other's teaching. We only had one word to say. "_Quoi_?"

"Ah'm leaving tomorrow." 

I frowned. "Why?"

"How, Remy?" she insisted. I sighed.

"_Je pars demain_." 

"_Je pars demain_" she repeated under her breath, memorizing the words. I got up and walked to her.

"Mary… is dat true?" She nodded, keeping her eyes down.

"Ah can't stay here, Remy, it'll destroy me."

"S'not de first time y'say dat, chère… But y'never tell me _pourquoi." She walked to the bed and sat down on it._

"Ah guess Ah could. It won' change anything anyways." I joined her on the bed, leaning on the wall, and waited. "Ah don' wanna get married, Remy." I opened my mouth in surprise.

"Married? Dat's not a bad t'ing, Mary."

"Of course it is, Remy." She looked straight at me. "Ah never asked yah… never asked if yah were married before they took yah here. But if yah were, yah were by choice." Her eyes were full of tears. "Ah… Ah'm turnin' 18 in a month, Remy, and Ah already know who Ah'm getting married to the day of my 21st birthday. I've known it fo'two years." I didn't say a word, frozen, and waited for her to continue. "His name's… Campbell. Something Campbell. He's something like 60 years old, and he's a planter somewhere in Virginia." Her voice got bitterer as she twisted her hands in her lap. "Ah don't want that, Remy. If Ah get married, Ah want it to be out of love."

"M'sorry t'hear dat, Mary…"

"Were yah married, Remy?" I stared at her for a few seconds before looking down. I haven't talked about Belle and the kids in almost a year.

"_Oui_. But I doubt I'll ever see dem again."

"Them?" I smiled sadly and nodded.

"_Quatre_ of dem… Dere's Alexandre, who's… he should be 7 now, and dere's Éloïse, who's 5."

"That's a beautiful name, Remy." I nodded, eyes closed. I felt like something was stuck in my throat.

"Dere's also Sylvain, who'll be turnin' 4 soon, and young Julien, _mon bébé. He's 2 now." I sighed. "I don' even know where dey could be. I heard some ships went to __les _Antilles_**, __en Angleterre, en __France…" She stared at me, her eyes wet._

"Ah'm so sorry, Remy, Ah didn't know yah had a whole family." I closed my eyes and laid back in the bed. "Ah'm here, wishin' I had it, and yah lost yours."

"We're two lon'ly hearts, Mary. But dat's not de end'o de world." She was silent for a long moment, and it took me a minute to realize she was silently crying, tears running down her cheeks. She smiled through her tears.

"It's such a shame yah're a slave, Remy." I sat up and smiled at her.

"What if I wasn'?" She stared at me for a few moments before looking away. She kept her face hidden behind her wild locks, but I had noticed the blush. I smiled. "What if I wasn', Mary?" I said in a much softer tone. She chuckled, turning her face a little more from me.

"Then maybe…" She sighed deeply, took a deep breath and turned to face me. Her face was entirely flushed and her eyes were shinning, with tears, with joy or with anger, that I couldn't tell. I drew back in reflex, though, in case it was with fury. "Then maybe things would be different, Remy. Different for me."

"What d'ye want t'change 'bout me, _chère_?"

The room was dark and clouds hid the moon, plunging us in almost complete darkness. My eyes were used to it, though, and I could see her profile, the pale light coming from the window behind her lighting her cream colored skin. She turned to look at me and her face disappeared, her curly dark hair lighten from behind, and her eyes twinkling in the dark. It unnerved me, in more than one way, and it unnerved me even more to think that I was facing the light from the window, and that she could see me very well while I couldn't read her face. She leaned forward, her face coming closer to mine, and I froze.

"Yah have beautiful eyes, Remy. Nobody here has dark eyes, like yours. Mah father's are brown, almost black, but yours… It's softer, the same color than the dead leaves we find all around the house in autumn." I swallowed. Hard.

"Mary…" She reached up and gently let the tip of her fingers brush my lips, shushing me, and I breathed in deeply, my heart beating wildly in my chest. "Mary, stop. Dis's dangerous" I said, my lips moving against her fingers. I saw her eyes shinning in the dark, and she leaned even closer to me.

"Shh… Yah have no idea what it means tah me… How things could be, Remy, if yah weren't what yah are." She moved even closer and her fingers left my lips only to be replaced by her mouth, softly brushing mine. Her breath tickled my cheeks and I closed my eyes, my hands aching to move. Whether to push her away or pull her near, I couldn't say. She pulled back after a short moment, blinking hard. "How things would be, if what Ah just did was allowed tah me."

I narrowed my eyes, trying to read her face in the darkness, but she gently shook her head, her hair falling in her face. I finally managed to move and reach up to push her hair away, only to find her cheeks were wet with tears. I softly brushed them dry with my thumbs, cupping her face, and she closed her eyes, turning so that her lips touched the base of my thumb. We stayed in that position a few seconds, not speaking a word, but I knew her mind was racing as fast as mine.

Slowly, she turned back her face and tilted her head up, eyes still closed. I took a deep breath, my blood racing in my veins, and leaned down, the tip of my nose brushing hers. I hesitated a split second, but she didn't, leaning up so that her mouth met mine. Her lips were pleading, soft and warm against my hesitating mouth. It was nice. It was exciting.

It was dangerous. Very dangerous.

And yet I surrendered, deepening the kiss as my hand cupped the back of her head and pulled her closer. She moved closer to me with a moan, her mouth opening, demanding more. Her hands ran through my hair, her fingers tangling in it, and she leaned on me, pushing me back so that I laid on the mattress with her over me.

My heart was beating loudly in my rib cage, threatening to come out, and my blood ran fast in my veins, blinding me with flashes of red as her tongue danced with mine. My breath was coming short and my hands were itching to move along her body. A part of my mind stayed clear, though, stubbornly staying in her hair though she clearly wanted more than that. 

I broke the kiss, pulling her away, and she opened surprised eyes to look at me. "Mary… stop. We can' do dis. Y'know it." Her lips, flushed with our kiss, trembled, but she slowly nodded and leaned her forehead against my lips. I kissed it and she pulled away, sliding from the bed and standing beside it, her eyes avoiding mine.

"Good night, Remy." With that she left and I sat still in my bed, listening to her footsteps as she ran out of the stables and back to the house.

I never went back to sleep, my eyes always drifting to the window. 

And all night, I stared at the auburn haired horse running around in circles in the fold, shaking angrily its head. Refusing domestication and, now more than ever, eager to be free.

**To be continued…**

* Italian for Devil (I hope… that's what the web translator said… If I'm wrong, please tell me!)

** the West Indies

***deep breath* Well. I hope you enjoyed that. I'll try to update faster next time, promise. **

**foofighta**, mah girl! See? SEE? I DID IT! I UPDATED! And it's certainly not thanks to you, with you putting all those crossover ideas in my head! But… ! Now that I've UPDATED, I can go and write some scenes! Yay! But I really have to work And now, it's YOUR turn! I've been waiting for a Torn update for a while now!

**WarmerThanFire** : Well, sorry this chapter took so long to come… Blame it on my muse, she's busy elsewhere and doesn't want to help me with this story! Talk to her! Maybe she'll listen to YOU *sticks out her tongue at her muse sulking in the corner*

**Yumiko** : *blushes* Well, that's a late 'now', but it's a now nevertheless… sorry about the wait.

**ishandahalf** : Well, I hope you feel REALLY guilty about Belle now, don't you? *evil laugh* And I don't want ANYONE coming and blaming me for making Remy forget about Belle. Face the facts… she's an ocean away, he hasn't seen her in almost a year and probably thinks he'll never see her again, as sad as that may sound. Haha. Well, now, I hope you liked this chapter, even if it ended on a strange note. Okay, they kissed. But keep in mind, Romy-lover, that this is a 'relationship' between a slave and a young planter's daughter. Does this sound all good and easy to your ears?

**Igamblelife** : Well, I hope you saw some nice amelioration in Mary's attitude. It may look like I skipped a part, but I think I made it clear that they are friends now, after almost 8 months of meeting and talking, and learning each other's language. From now on, the way they'll act in the other's presence is still undetermined, and I have to find a way for things to be bearable for both of them… Because I seriously doubt Charles Sherston would appreciate her daughter kissing a slave in the stables, in the middle of the night. 


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